Chapter Nine: The Case of the Mysterious Tricker Trees

It turned out to be Mister Hide-on-the-Porch. I should have known.

“Hank, oh my gosh, come quick, help, murder, mayday, mayday!” Since the little mutt seemed to be almost beside himself, I decided to postpone bringing charges against him for cowardly and chicken-hearted behavior.

“All right, Drover, take it from the beginning and give me a full report. Try to control yourself and give me the facts.”

“Well, I’ll try, but I sure am scared.”

“I can see that, but unless you can prove that you saw something scary, you’re in trouble for leaving an investigation without permission.”

“Yeah, but I DID see something scary! It scared me clean out of my wits.”

“That proves nothing, Drover, because you have very few wits out of which to be scared.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Nevertheless, I’ll listen to your report. From the beginning, and hurry up. We have a night patrol to make.”

Drover rolled his eyes. “Well, I was lying in front of the house . . .”

“Yes, on the porch, where you were told not to go.”

“And a car pulled up in front of the yard gate, and the motor was running.”

“Hold it right there. The yard gate doesn’t have a motor, so it follows that the yard gate’s motor couldn’t possibly have been running. Already I’ve found a flaw in your story.”

“No, I meant the car’s motor was running.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose . . . if you saw a car, Drover, and if the motor’s car was running, as you claimed, then where did this alleged car go between the time you made your observation and the present moment?”

“It’s right over there.”

I turned my head and squinted into the darkness. There, parked in front of the yard gate, was a . . . well, a car. With its motor running, you might say.

“Hmm, yes, that checks out.”

The car was black, see, and the night was also black, so it wasn’t as obvious . . . 

“All right, we have the car and the motor running. So far so good. Go on with your story.”

“Well, I went over to the car . . .”

“Did you mark the tires?”

“No, not exactly.”

“You should ALWAYS mark the tires of an unidentified vehicle, Drover. It’s one of our most important jobs.”

“I know, but I didn’t have time, ’cause just then I saw . . .”

“Hold it right there. You saw something?”

“Sure did.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you saw?”

“I would, but you keep butting in.”

“Butting in? Is that what you call it? Is that the thanks I get for trying to guide your testimony in the right direction? But never mind my feelings, never mind all the many things I’ve done to help you. Go ahead and finish your story.”

“I don’t remember where I was.”

“You had said something about a car.”

“A car. A car? A car.”

“That’s correct, a car. The motor was running.”

“Motor. Motor? Motor.”

“Yes. The car had a motor and the motor was running.”

“Are you sure I saw that?”

“Of course you saw it, and there it is over by the yard gate with the motor running.”

“I thought you said gates don’t have motors.”

I went to sterner measures, showed him some fangs and gave him a growl. That got his attention.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it now. The car’s gate was running over by the motor and I went to check it out, and that’s when they got out.”

I studied him in the moonlight. “Someone got out of the car? Did you give them a good barking?”

“No, I didn’t have time. They were talking, Hank, real loud.”

“Talking, huh? It’s starting to come together, Drover. I’m beginning to see a pattern here. Can you remember what they said?”

“Well, let’s see. Something about trees.”

“Trees? What kind of trees?”

“I don’t remem . . . oh yeah. They yelled something about Tricker Trees. Then they went up to the porch and knocked on the door. Slim answered the door and they yelled, “Tricker Tree!” And everybody laughed and they went inside.”

“Tricker Trees? Hmm. That seems odd. Why would someone come to the ranch at this time of night, leave the motor running in a car, go up to the porch, and talk about Tricker Trees?”

“I don’t know. I never heard of a Tricker Tree before.”

I ran my eyes across the darkness and tried to put this thing together. Something was missing.

“All right, Drover. Listen carefully and search your memory for every detail. You mentioned voices but you’ve said nothing about persons, places, or forms that might have produced these voices. Who were these people?”

“Oh my gosh, that was the scary part!”

I noted that he had begun to shiver. “Maybe you’d better tell me about it. I think we’re getting to the heart of the core.”

“Okay, I’ll try, but I’m getting scareder and scareder. There were four of them, Hank.”

“Yes? Four of them, go on.”

“You won’t believe it when I tell you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Go on.”

“Well, all right. Oh Hank, there were four of them up there on the porch, yelling and screaming and shrieking about those Tricker Trees!”

“Yes, yes? Keep going. Who were they, Drover?”

“I can’t say it!”

“Say it, spit it out!”

“You won’t believe it!”

“Of course I will!”

“Two skeletons, one ghost, one witch, and a pirate!”

I glared at him. “I don’t believe that, Drover.”

“I knew you wouldn’t, I never should have told you the truth!”

“Do you know why I don’t believe it? In the first place, I don’t believe in ghosts. In the second place, we don’t have skeletons or witches on this ranch. In the third place, no pirate could survive in this country because our annual rainfall wouldn’t support a pirate. They require large amounts of water.”

“I don’t care, I saw ’em with my own eyes.”

“Let me finish. In the fourth place, you said you saw four figures on the porch. Two skeletons plus one ghost plus one pirate plus one witch equals five, Drover, not four.”

“Maybe I miscounted.”

“Maybe you miscounted or,” suddenly I whirled around and faced him, “or maybe you’re making all this up, Drover, creating a centrifuge to distract me from your insubordination.”

“I don’t even know what a centrifuge is. How could I create one?”

“Very easily. Let me explain. Do you know the meaning of life?”

“Well . . . not really. I’m still working on it.”

“There you are. The fact that you don’t know the meaning of life doesn’t mean you’re not living. Hence, by the same logic, the fact that you don’t know the meaning of centrifuge doesn’t mean you couldn’t create one. Am I making myself clear?”

“I guess, but I still don’t know what a centrifuge is.”

“A centrifuge is a plot, a conspiracy, used by devious characters to cover up their devious behavior. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book, Drover, and you should have known better than to try it on me.”

“I sure get into a mess when I try to tell the truth.”

“Exactly. You made up the whole thing, and now that I’ve exposed your little fraud, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m all confused.”

“At last the truth comes out! You’re all confused, Drover. What doesn’t exist can’t be seen, and I’ve already proven beyond a doubt that these so-called goblins couldn’t possibly exist.”

“I think I’ll go back to bed.”

“Not yet, Drover, not until we crack this case, for you see, we still have the mysterious black car with its motor running and we still haven’t learned the identities of the Strangers in the Night.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Now let’s get this case wrapped up. I will penetrate the yard and set up a forward position near the front steps.”

“And I’ll go to the machine shed and wait.”

“I’m afraid not, Drover. The machine shed is two miles away at the other place.”

“Oh drat.”

“No, you’ll serve as my backup and witness. We’ll wait until they come out of the house. At that point you will see that they’re only people, possibly the neighbors, and that will put a stop to these silly stories. Are you ready?”

“Hank, this leg of mine sure is giving me fits. Maybe . . .”

“Never mind the leg. We’ve got a job to do. Come on, son, over the fence and into the yard!”

And with that we leaped over the fence and set up our positions and waited for the trespassers to come out of the house.